


against all odds

by adietxt



Category: One Piece
Genre: Fic Collection, M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-04-23 06:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14326155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adietxt/pseuds/adietxt
Summary: You’re born with a timer that ticks down to the time you’ll meet your soulmate.Zoro and Sanji meet at the Baratie.Their eyes meet, across the table, and their timer ticks on.(A Soulmate AU compilation).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, here’s how this is gonna go: each chapter will be a stand-alone story with different settings/universes related to soulmate AUs. They can be a slight twist of the canon verse (e.g they’re still pirates in the op verse, but soulmates!) or they can be completely different universes (e.g, a modern au).
> 
> Basically, this will be my sandbox for soulmate AUs. I’ve always been fascinated with the concept, and I like to play around with the trope — playing them straight in the most self-indulgent ways, because I can, but occasionally putting a unique spin to some of them, too. This “story” will always be marked as complete because all of these chapters are one-shots, but I’ll return to it with more chapters whenever I have another soulmate AU verse I feel like dabbing in. Tags are... prone to be a mess, so I probably won't touch them. Any additional warnings will be put at the start of each chapter.
> 
> Sometimes Zoro and Sanji are soulmates in these stories. Sometimes they aren’t. But because they’re _them_ , always pulling towards each other, like an inevitability — they’re always, always together in the end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > **1.** Soulmates have complementary, matching patterns on their arms, like a sleeve tattoo.
> 
> Zoro has never met anyone who wasn't born with a soulmark like him. That is, until he met Sanji.

 

When things have settled down, they return to Alabasta.

The country’s gates open up with a big warm welcome as they celebrate the return of their country’s savior and the new Pirate King. A huge feast is held at the center of the town square, and the joy seems to spread throughout the nation as Zoro walks past all the smiling faces of its citizens.

But the main event has never been that. In a quiet moment, shared between two women, the princess of Alabasta welcomes her soulmate home.

Zoro catches himself watching the whole proceeding — Nami smiling, wide wide _wide_ , the tilt of her grin touches her eyes in the way it rarely does, and Vivi seems to mirror her joy with her own watery smile, warm and fond. They embrace each other in a hug, and when they part, Vivi lifts her right arm.

Vivi’s soulmark is as impressive as Zoro remembers — an array of pinwheels, tracing a pattern from her wrist up to her shoulder. The wheels are in different shades of oranges, and sometimes, when Zoro blinks just so, the wheels seem to turn and spin on its own. There are hints of blue on the edges, as blue as her hair, as blue as the sands on Nami’s arm, forming matching soulmarks they share for just the two of them.

Nami raises her arm in turn and presses her soulmark against Vivi’s. The pinwheel on Vivi’s arm seemingly coil against the sandy seas on Nami’s, and Zoro is suddenly distinctly aware of his own unmarked skin.

As if sensing his change of mood, Sanji edges closer, their shoulders pressing against one another’s, and Zoro’s gaze instinctively drops at Sanji’s arm at the touch.

It’s patternless, just like Zoro’s own.

It used to be much more difficult to catch a glimpse of Sanji’s markless skin; the Cook seems to wear layers and layers of clothings, suits and long-sleeved shirts and thick jackets, as if ashamed of his situation. Like the rest of the crew, though, Sanji has learned over the years to be more comfortable in his own skin.

“Zoro! Sanji!” Luffy suddenly calls out from among the crowd, a slab of large meat in between his teeth. “What are you guys standing around for! Let’s eat!”

Luffy waves his hands excitedly, and Zoro’s eye instinctively follows Luffy’s soulmarks — scorching red balls of fire, brilliant and bright on both of his arms. It still feels very _Luffy_ , no matter how many times Zoro sees it — soulmates don’t have to be romantic partners, and it seems fitting for Luffy, to have not just one but both of his own brothers as his soulmates.

“We’ll catch up later!” Sanji shouts back.

Seemingly satisfied, Luffy launches himself towards another table full of food.

Zoro doesn’t think he’s a sentimental person — definitely not one compared to Sanji. He doesn’t contemplate much on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. But in a world where soulmarks are ever-present, where most people were born with one, he couldn’t help but think, sometimes, what it would’ve been like to have a soulmate.

To have a soulmate who isn’t Sanji.

Zoro knows he would’ve still chosen Sanji over his soulmate, if he were ever to have one. This is not meant as a grand gesture of love or some form of dramatic sentimentality — it is simply a fact that he would choose Sanji as his partner, as his equal. He has done so and he would make the same decision, over and over again, in any version of reality. And if he were to have a soulmate, then, that would’ve been unfair to them, whoever they are.

And if Sanji were the one with the soulmate, well — Zoro is not so conceited to think that Sanji would’ve chosen him in favor of this imaginary person, but he knows Sanji would put the happiness of others before his own, would sacrifice his own happiness in a heartbeat. Zoro thinks it would kill Sanji, to be forced to choose something that would hurt others — be it his soulmate, or Zoro.

The thought sends an uncomfortable pang to his heart. Zoro rolls his shoulders, trying to physically shrug the feeling off, and nudges Sanji’s hand with his.

Sanji tangles their fingers together in response, a gesture that’s become natural between them over the years. Sanji tugs lightly, and doesn’t look away as he hums a questioning, “hn?”

“Nothing,” Zoro says, voice low, almost a whisper. “‘s just, I’m glad we don’t have a soulmate.”

The words came out clumsy, and for a split second Zoro’s afraid that Sanji would take it the wrong way. But then Sanji leans closer and rests his head on Zoro’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Sanji says, lips pressed onto the crook of Zoro’s neck, and tension bleeds from Zoro’s shoulders.

Zoro traces his fingers over Sanji’s arm, inkless pale skin untouched by the hands of fate, and makes a point to find time later. He will press kisses along the expanse of the skin then, when it’s just the two of them, to leave his marks, his own version of a promise the universe didn’t get to make — of _forever, forever, forever_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > **2.** They say a person dreams their soulmate’s dreams. All my soulmate seems to have is nightmares.
> 
> Every night Zoro wakes up to the taste of steel and blood.

Zoro wakes up to the taste of steel and blood.

He jolts up from his hammock so fast his head unceremoniously hits the wooden hammock above him. It sways dangerously, almost tipping to the side and dumping Usopp to the ground, but it thankfully balances itself. He’s disoriented at first, rubbing his head absentmindedly with his heart pounding in his ears, and it’s only after the adrenaline has filtered out of his bloodstream that he realizes it was just an afterimage of a nightmare.

His _soulmate’s_ nightmare, to be precise. _Again_.

It used to worry him so much more — the fact that his soulmate dreams of steel and blood almost every night — but these days all he can muster is a fleeting concern, and it makes his chest tight with the guilt for not caring enough.

Kuina told him all about this whole soulmate business the first time he was woken up by a nightmare he couldn’t understand. It was someone else’s dream, she had explained, and this person was going to be the most important person in his life.

It unsettled him then, that there was someone out there who had to go through this nightmare, and it unsettles him still until this day. But Zoro doubts this person is ever going to be the most important person in his life, especially not when —

Zoro finds himself standing in front of the galley. The light is dim, but on, and when he steps inside, Sanji is there.

“One of those again?” Sanji asks as he hands Zoro a small bottle of warm sake.

Zoro gives him an appreciative nod, and takes the bottle. “Hn.”

They fall into comfortable silence as Zoro takes a few sips from his drink.

It has become an unspoken routine for them recently — Zoro would get one of those nightmares from his soulmate almost every night nowadays, and whenever he goes to the galley to get something to chase away the bitter taste of steel and blood from his tongue, Sanji would be there.

Zoro assumes he’s only there to make sure Zoro isn’t stealing more booze than he’s allowed to, but Sanji always stays until the tremors have gone from Zoro’s hands, and the silent gesture makes something in Zoro’s chest warm and light.

Sanji seems to feel more conversational tonight, though, because he suddenly asks, “you ever wonder?”

Zoro looks up from his drink at the question. Sanji has taken a seat across the table, facing away from Zoro, a trail of smoke floating above his head. He looks pensive, and Zoro can’t figure out what he’s thinking. “What?”

Sanji inhales, and blows a lungful of smoke. “That soulmate of yours,” he says. “They’ve been having nightmares recently, right? You ever wonder what happened to them?”

“Not really,” Zoro admits with a shrug.

It’s apparently the wrong answer, because Sanji turns to him at that, a dark scowl etched on his face. “Why not?”

“I — they — we used to have this nightmare a lot, when I was young,” Zoro quickly explains. He has the vague feeling of having said something wrong without knowing what, and it rattles on his nerves. “It’s not exactly something new for them, so I doubt something happened.”

“You never had these night attacks on the Merry,” Sanji fires back.

“The nightmares got rarer as I got older, and it stopped long before I met Luffy.” This isn’t exactly true — the nightmares would still come, occasionally, but it did become more muted over the years. Distant. Zoro would still wake up drenched in sweat the next morning, but it didn’t make him feel like there was a scream permanently lodged in his throat.

“But it hasn’t,” Sanji argues back. “The fact that you’re here says it all. So something must’ve happened.”

Zoro groans. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why do you _not_ care?”

“Because I don’t care about this whole soulmate thing?” Zoro blurts out, agitated. “Someone out there is getting nightmares. Big deal. I’d help if I could, but I don’t get why I should _care_. This person is a stranger for all I know, could even be some kind of an asshole. They could fight their own battles.”

Zoro regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. Mostly because it’s untrue — he is not so heartless as to turn a blind eye on someone who clearly needs help, especially when that person is his soulmate. He _does_ care; he just doesn’t want _Sanji_ to get the wrong idea, because —

Sanji drops the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out with the sole of his shoe, almost forcefully. “I thought you were better than this,” he says, in a tone that make something in Zoro’s stomach turns cold.

Zoro runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “What got you so worked up, cook?”

“None of your business,” Sanji says, and pushes pass Zoro to walk out of the galley.

Zoro watches Sanji slam the door close, upset and mostly confused. He couldn’t believe how quickly their conversation went south. It’s always like this with Sanji — one second they’d be having a perfectly civil conversation, the next they’d be at each other’s throat. The sake Sanji gave him is still warm, the bottle half-full, and Zoro scoffs bitterly at the sight.

To think he’d confess his feelings to the Cook tonight.

It doesn’t matter. Sanji is easy to anger, but easier to forgive — they’ll be back to their usual antagonistic friendship tomorrow, and Zoro will just have to live with another day of watching the Cook from afar, stopping himself from standing too close, touching too much. He’ll probably have another nightmare, and Sanji is still going to be there when he wakes up, calming him down, and it’ll be enough.

 

* * *

 

Except they don’t.

The Sunny reaches the harbor of Dressrosa the next day, and the next time Zoro sees the ship again, the galley still smells faintly of smoke and aftershave, but Sanji isn’t there.

And if the worst happens — Sanji will never be there again.

Zoro tightens his grip on his sword at the thought, but there is no enemy to fight. Not here.

 

* * *

 

Zoro dreams, and it is his own.

Robin explained once, how exactly the dreamsharing thing works: you see the your soulmate’s dream when they dream, and they see yours when you do. But whenever there is an overlap — when the both of you dream at the same time — it will depend on the emotional state of the dreamer. _Basically_ , Robin said, _if you’re emotionally more affected by the dream than your soulmate is to theirs, it’s your dream the two of you will be sharing._

And _how_.

Sometimes Zoro dreams of Sanji dying; bloodied and battered under Big Mom’s feet, eyes open but unseeing, and Zoro would scream his name hoarse until he wakes up with the Cook’s name lodged in his throat. Other times he dreams of Sanji leaving them all behind; healthy and safe but walking away from them all into the arms of his bride-to-be, and Zoro would try to tell him how he feels but Sanji doesn’t hear him, _refuses_ to hear him.

Zoro doesn’t know which one is worse.

His soulmate’s dream has morphed, too — it is still drenched with steel and blood, but the images are clearer now. What he always thought as steel was iron; iron floors of a dark basement, cold to the touch; iron bars of a prison cell, tall and imposing and restrictive; iron mask over a child’s head, a reminder of shame and hopelessness.

Zoro wakes up every day with his breath trapped somewhere between his chest. Sometimes someone else will wake up too, and asks, “are you okay?”

 _I’m fine_ , Zoro wants to say, but he’s never been good with lying, so he doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

The Sunny is bobbing idly on an unknown sea, and Sanji is cooking in the galley, humming to himself. When Zoro approaches him, Sanji turns with a smile stretched across his face, and kisses him on the lips.

 _Oh,_  Zoro immediately thinks — immediately _knows_ — _this is a dream_.

He knows this because there is no way Sanji would do this willingly in reality. The Cook has made it clear time and again that he has no interest in men, much less Zoro; it is a painful fact Zoro has long learned to accept.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in a fantasy or two.

The air is light with a dream-like quality to it, and Zoro distantly realizes this is something his soulmate will see. The usual tinge of guilt is back, but dream-Sanji just started to bury his fingers in Zoro’s hair, pulling him closer, and Zoro can’t find it in himself to care — Zoro is only concerned with the way Sanji feels as he runs his hands down Sanji’s sides, the way he shakes, the way he clutches Zoro’s hands and shoulders. If he closes his eyes hard enough, he thinks he could pretend that this is the real Sanji.

And then dream-Sanji says, in between kisses, “best,” kiss. “Dream,” kiss. “Ever.”

Zoro snaps his eyes open at that. “What?”

It earns him a huff of laughter, playful and rich. “Don’t ruin the illusion, you dumbass,” dream-Sanji says. “Let me pretend you’re the real deal, okay? This is my dream. You do as I say.”

“What are you —” Zoro sputters, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “This is _my_ dream.”

The world around him dissolves.

 

* * *

 

 

Confusion must’ve been written all over his face throughout the whole morning, because Robin greets him with a, “did something happen?”

“What makes you say that?” Zoro retorts, defensive, almost out of instinct.

Robin shrugs and sips her tea. “There’s a certain glow to your face today. A rarity, considering how it is with your soulmate.”

It bothers Zoro, how most of the crew knew about his predicament with his soulmate these days. It used to be something he shared only with Sanji, but now with the Cook gone and the nightmares increasing in intensity, it was inevitable that everyone else will find out, sooner or later.

He decides that there’s no point in hiding, so he asks “Have you ever shared your dream with someone?”

Robin blinks. “I share my dreams with Franky. You know that.”

The tilt of her smile forms a smirk that seems to imply that the word ‘dreams’ don’t _just_ mean dreams, and Zoro scrunches his nose in disgust. “I’m not asking about _that_. I’m talking about _really_ sharing. You and someone else’s mind, in the same dream. Is that even possible?”

Robin chuckles at his reaction, before answering, “it happened to us once, actually, right before we were reunited in Sabaody.” She taps her chin, thinking. “It probably occurs because we were both dreaming of — _wishing for_ — the same thing: to be together. So our consciousness existed within that same dream.”

Zoro straightens up in his seat, not willing to entertain what it actually _means_. “Did you have it with Franky? Your soulmate?”

“I’d imagine it can only happen between soulmates, yes,” Robin says. “Why do you ask?”

Zoro thinks of Sanji; the way he was always awake whenever Zoro had woken up by the nightmares. He always thought it was just Sanji being considerate — and partly it must have been — but have they been shaken by the same dream all along? The ironand blood in the dreams — is that a memory of Sanji’s childhood, growing up with that terrible family of his?

Zoro thinks of the way Sanji felt in the dream they shared, warm and pliant in his arms, and wonders how it would feel to hold him outside the dreams.

 

* * *

 

They find each other eventually in Wano, before the fight against Kaido. The crew reunited in joy, but Zoro doesn’t miss the way Sanji slips away from the cacophony as soon as he can, barricading himself inside the safe familiarity of Sunny’s galley.

Zoro’s always been good with that. Breaking through Sanji’s barriers, that is.

He closes the galley door behind him just as Sanji puts down his knife. He turns to face Zoro with a glare. “What do you want?”

Zoro doesn’t bother with small talk. He never has to, when it comes to Sanji. “How long have you known?”

Sanji visibly goes rigid from the question, and that confirms it for Zoro. His soulmate has been Sanji all along, and he’s been feeling torn for the past two years for nothing. It’s frustrating and exhilarating at the same time, and something flares in his chest at the way a blush spreads across Sanji’s cheeks.

“Thriller Bark,” Sanji finally answers, after a moment. “I saw myself dying, over and over again, in your dream. Only the two of us knew what happened, so…”

It’s Zoro’s turn to blush, because what the hell. He remembers the fear gripping his chest when Sanji offered himself as a sacrifice to Bartholomew Kuma, and the nightmares that followed — but he always kept that to himself, thinking that Sanji would never know. So much for that secrecy.

“So that dream I had — the dream _we_ had…” Zoro says, and trails off. He wants Sanji to confirm it by himself, that they’re soulmates, that he wants Zoro as much as Zoro has wanted him for the longest time.

Sanji took Zoro’s silence the wrong way, though, because he grits his teeth and looks away as he spits, “don’t make fun of me.”

Zoro straightens up at that. “I’m not making fun of you.”

The glare that Sanji gives him is sharper than any knife. “I don’t need your pity.”

“This isn’t — where did you even get the idea,” Zoro runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “What are you even talking about?”

“You said it yourself, didn’t you?” Sanji says bitterly. “You never cared about the whole soulmate thing.”

“Because of _you!_ ” Zoro fires back, because he needs Sanji to understand — the way the concern he has developed over the years for his soulmate and the affection he has felt for the Cook have now collapsed into one rush of emotions of _want_ , bursting against his ribcage. “I’ve pretended not to care about my soulmate because I wanted you to know that I’d choose you over them — I didn’t know the two of you were the same person.”

Zoro can hear Sanji’s breath stuttering in surprise. The Cook is staring at him now, wide-eyed, and Zoro takes the opportunity to walk across the galley and take Sanji’s hand in his.

“I love you, Cook,” he tells Sanji, because it needs to be said, and Sanji needs to hear it. “I have loved you for a long time, and not because some force of the universe told me to.” He lifts Sanji’s trembling hand and brings it to his lips. “Should that not count for something?”

Sanji’s hand is warm and dry, and Zoro presses another kiss to the back of his hand. “I’ve always thought,” Sanji chokes at that, voice almost a whisper. “You told me you didn’t care, and I thought you’d think of me as — weak.” He sucks in a breath before gritting out, “useless.”

He pulls Sanji into a hug, lips pressed against Sanji’s cheek. “You’ve seen my dreams, Cook — my _nightmares_. That sometimes I still dream of our nakama dying the way Kuina did, swift and final and —” he pauses, unable to finish his words. Even after all these years, the sharp ache against his heart at the thought of her is still fresh, and he wonders what it feels like for Sanji, who has lost so much; suffered for so long. “Fear is not a weakness.”

“I’ve always wanted to tell you,” Sanji says against his shoulder in reply. “Always wanted _you_.”

The nightmares might still come, Zoro knows — that the iron and blood are more vivid than ever to Sanji now. But when Zoro closes his eyes, he now knows that he will have Sanji with him. His partner. His  _soulmate_.

“You have me,” Zoro says, tightening his grip around Sanji’s shoulder. “Always.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > **3.** The first time soulmates meet, they exchange eye color with one another.
> 
> Zoro knows nothing about soulmates and divine interventions. It doesn’t matter, anyway — all he cares about is the way the stranger’s hand is placed all too casually on Sanji’s shoulder, and Zoro suddenly feels the irrepressible urge to cut _something_.
> 
> Based on [a prompt from kitt21](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/165216908), heavily modified with permission.

Nami narrows her eyes at a couple of figures in a distance. “Is that Sanji-kun?”

Zoro huffs and shrugs, as if he couldn’t recognize Sanji’s figure from a mile away with his eyes closed, but Nami taps his shoulder insistently as she goes on, “it’s really him, Zoro, look at him!”

Zoro glowers at her, but his, _what the hell_ , _witch_ , dies in his lips as he has a good look on Sanji. Sanji _and_ some other people, actually — a good number of them, a total of six men to be precise, standing way too near around the cook. Zoro can see the discomfort visible in Sanji’s expression, and the only reason Sanji hasn’t kicked them all away is probably the rows of marine ships docked at the island’s harbor and Nami’s stern warning of, _do not attract any attention_ before they got off the ship.

It’s totally okay, though. Sanji is as good with words as he is with his legs, and he could talk his way out of anything. It’s fine.

Except when it’s not, and Zoro can’t stop himself from approaching the Cook. He thinks he can hear Nami calling out for him, but there’s blood roaring in his ears and a hot surge of anger he can’t exactly explain, and before he knows it he’s putting a possessive hand on Sanji’s shoulder from behind.

Sanji turns, eyes blinking wide in surprise. “Marimo?”

Zoro presses slightly, hard enough that Sanji instinctively leans towards him. The movement doesn’t get unnoticed by the men, and one of them raises a nasty eyebrow at him. “You got problem with us?”

Zoro clenches his teeth, resisting the urge to take out his swords. “Depends,” he growls, taking a firm step that puts himself between Sanji and the men. “Whether any of you are planning to do something stupid.”

The tallest one, who seems to be the leader of the pack, steps in front. He seems scared — all of them clearly are, having to face a man with one eye and three swords — but still stares Zoro down, probably out of ego. “What, it’s a crime to talk to people now?”

“Zoro,” Sanji says, probably trying to defuse the tension, but the leader interrupts with a, “You two together?”

They’re not, Zoro knows. They have fooled around for the past two years, but at the end of the day they sleep in their own hammock and Sanji still flirts with the girls. Sanji is most definitely the type who’s just looking for something casual, and it’s not like Zoro ever asked for something more. He doesn’t care, and they’re not _together_ —

“Yeah, we are,” Zoro blurts, free hand moving towards his swords. “So if you’re smart, you’re going to back off.” He pushes Shushui out of its hilt, and the blade glints under the sunlight. “ _Now_.”

The men visibly gulp at the sight before scrambling away from them. Zoro watches them trip over nothing in fear before disappearing into a corner, hopefully never to be seen again.

Zoro feels a flare of satisfaction, but it was short-lived, soon replaced by the rush of shame, settling uncomfortably at his gut. He doesn’t know what came onto him; he rarely lost control to his own emotions like that, but Sanji has always been the exception, and he’s struggling to understand what that _means_.

One thing is clear, though. He turns towards Sanji. “I’m sorry.”

Sanji frowns, confused. “For what?”

“You know,” Zoro makes a vague gesture at his surrounding. “Just now. You can fight your own battles, and I shouldn’t have interfered, and even…” he trails off. _Pretended to be your lover,_  he can’t bring himself to say, to hear Sanji agreeing that it was all just pretense.

He braces himself for the kick to the gut that he knows he deserves, but it never comes. Zoro is surprised to find Sanji scratching the bridge of his nose instead, a blush creeping up his face.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” he says, gesturing Zoro to walk with him, partly — Zoro suspects — to hide the reddening flush on his face. He clears his throat awkwardly, before admitting in a low voice, “I… like it. I mean, I don’t mind if you’re being a little possessive, once in a while.”

Sanji’s stride is fast, as if he’s trying to run away from Zoro in the middle of the conversation, and Zoro is barely able to keep in pace as he’s assaulted by so many different questions. “But,” he says, and pauses; unsure what to say. “It was a lie. We’re not even together.”

Sanji suddenly stops walking, and Zoro almost runs into him.

“What the hell, Cook?”

“What did you say?” Sanji asks, ignoring Zoro’s exclamation.

Zoro gulps. Well, here comes the kick. Late, but inevitable. “When I told them we were together,” he explains, “that was out of the line for me. We’re not together.”

But instead of lifting his leg, Sanji _looks_ at him like Zoro just swallowed all three of his swords in front of him. “Yes, Zoro,” Sanji says, slowly, like talking to a kid. “We are.”

And now it’s _Zoro_ ’s turn to get baffled. “What?”

Sanji’s face actually twists, like he’s being hurt. “Do you not want us to be?”

“Of course I do!” Zoro blurts out before he even realizes what he’s saying; he just doesn’t like that look on Sanji’s face, like this sad, lonely cat at the side of the road, and Zoro wants that look gone, sue him. He coughs. “But that’s not the point! We don’t even sleep in the same bed at night!”

“What are you even on about, we don’t have beds, we have hammocks and they can’t fit more than one person —” Sanji stops short. “You want us to sleep together every night?”

“Yes! No — I mean, yes, but,” Zoro stumbles, and this is all so confusing to him, damn it. It feels like someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over his head in the middle of a summer’s day. He gestures helplessly at the two of them. “How was I supposed to know that you wanted this beyond a casual thing?”

Sanji looks at Zoro like he’s stupid half the time, but his current expression takes the cake. “Well, for a start,” Sanji says, “we’re soulmates.”

Zoro blinks. He waits for the words to sink in and make sense, but it never does. “...what’s a soulmate?”

Sanji drops the bag of groceries he’s been carrying.

Some of the contents spill out of the bag as it hits the ground, and Zoro absentmindedly watches an apple roll off the ground from the corner of his eye. Sanji, for once, ignores it, in favor of blurting a questioning, “how could you not know what a soulmate is?”

“Nobody ever told me?” Zoro tries, utterly befuddled now. “I grew up in a dojo, we just… trained a lot, and — what does that even have to do with us?”

Sanji balks at that. “If you didn’t know that we were soulmates and you didn’t think we were together, why did you…?”

Zoro feels like throwing his hands up in frustration. “Becasuse I — _damn it_ , Shit Cook —” Zoro’s always been terrible with words anyway, so he shuts up, pulls Sanji by the wrist and presses a kiss to the Cook’s lips. “I love you, dumbass. I thought I could keep it all to myself, but when I saw those guys coming on to you, I couldn’t — I didn’t like it.”

He pauses to take in breath when he catches Sanji’s shoulders shaking. _Anger_ , Zoro guesses, and wrongly, because Sanji then throws his head back and laughs.

“You’re telling me you never realized? How the others kept giving us space?” He wipes tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes which is, frankly, kind of insulting. “Brook always plays some shitty love songs whenever we hang out. Nami sends us on _dates_.”

“She calls them shopping trips!”

“Franky built a makeshift bed in the crow’s nest for us to fuck.”

“I always thought that was kind of weird, shut up —” The hand on Sanji’s wrist slides down to fall into Sanji’s grasp, and Sanji does shut up as he flushes and stares at their joined hands.

How has Zoro never realized? Sanji wants this relationship as much as he does. Has been treating it as one, in fact.

“So,” he clears his throat. Rubs his shoulder. “Together, huh.”

“ _Soulmates_ ,” Sanji corrects, and his face flushes a shade darker. “You’re okay with that?”

“You’re gonna need to explain to me about this whole soulmate thing, but I’m pretty sure i’m ready for whatever it is,” he says, and squeezes Sanji’s hand. “It’s with _you_ , after all.”

"Dumbass," Sanji says, but laughs, and Zoro’s heart does a flip. They walk hand in hand then; Sanji’s hand slots perfectly between Zoro’s fingers, and Zoro thinks he’ll never let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened to the groceries, you ask? Listen… you know they’d pick it up… Sanji would even chase the rolled off apple… I just can’t fit that scene with the flow of the fic, okay, so you just have to deal with the missing groceries bag. They’re holding hands. I can’t ruin that. It’s _sacred_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > **4.** You’re born with a timer that ticks down to the time you’ll meet your soulmate.
> 
> Zoro and Sanji meet at the Baratie.
> 
> Their eyes meet, across the table, and their timer ticks on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't obvious already, the part of soulmate AUs that fascinates me the most is when two characters _aren't_ soulmates, and yet still choose one another, despite everything. Zoro and Sanji have always seemed like the perfect couple for that concept, so here's my love letter for it, hope you'll enjoy this one as much as I did writing it :')

Zoro meets Sanji at the Baratie.

It’s nothing to write home about.

Sanji is more preoccupied with Nami as soon as he lays his eyes on her, and Zoro barely spares him a glance, more fascinated by the way Nami has already managed to get a free meal out of him in the ten short seconds they interacted. That _witch_.

His timer ticks on.

 

* * *

 

 

Zoro eyes the girl from the corner of his eyes.

Every nerve in his body is telling him to _run away_ , but he still needs the swords and he’s never been good at that. Running away, that is.

He steals another glance at her; it’s definitely the girl he just came across earlier, the one who dropped her glasses. Up close like this, standing side-by-side, her similarity to Kuina is uncanny, and it unsettles Zoro in ways he can’t describe. He rubs the inside of his left wrist, but the number stubbornly doesn’t change — 00 : 00 : 00 is engraved against his skin, the counter already reaching zero the moment he saw her.

Zoro considers swallowing his pride and leaves the blacksmith _now_ , swords be damned. He doesn’t need them anyway, not really, as long as he still carries Wadou with him. It’s the logical action to take, after all — he can’t expect a random woman to just agree to become pirates with him, and it’s not like he’s ever particularly wanted to start a relationship. That doesn’t even take into account the ridiculous fact that his soulmate looks exactly like Kuina, whom he always considers as a sister.

He makes his way to the shop’s exit just as she says, “you’re my soulmate, aren’t you.”

Zoro stops in his track. _Shit_. “Am I?”

She looks unimpressed by his pathetic attempt at bluffing. “Didn’t we meet earlier just now on the streets?” She lays her sword against the wall and shows him her wrist. “My counter hit zero when you handed me my glasses. It did for you too, right?”

 _You should’ve run_ , he mentally berates himself, and has half the mind to break into a sprint anyway. But instead of some grand gestures of romance he expected from a soulmate, the woman just sighs sadly.

“Look, I don’t know how to break this to you. It’s nothing personal, but…” she averts her eyes, almost guiltily. “I got a lot on my plates at work and I… I have this dream, you see. All the famous swordsmen in the world right now are either pirates or bounty hunters, and they’re the ones who posses most of the world’s masterwork blades.” She picks her sword back up and tightens her grip on it. “The swords are crying, you know.”

She takes a long breath, and when she returns her gaze at him, it is filled with resolve. “So I vow to travel the world and retrieve all the masterwork blades from the hands of criminals. And that’s why I don’t think I’ll ever want to be with my soulmate. I’m sorry.”

 _Oh thank fuck_. Zoro feels the relief rolls off his spine. It’s not entirely uncommon these days that some people don’t want anything to do with their soulmate; some of them don’t bother waiting, or simply have other things in their life that get in the way of getting together for the supposed Happily Ever After. She’s apparently one of those people, and Zoro can definitely go along with that.

The woman must’ve taken his relieved silence wrongly, because she starts blubbering, “I’m sorry to spill this all out on you just minutes after we met, I’m probably not something you expected or wanted —”

Zoro laughs at that. “You’re exactly what I wanted. Well, in a way,” he quickly amends. “I don’t really care about this whole soulmate thing either, and I thought I had to run away from you just now.”

Zoro can see the woman’s shoulders relaxing. They’re definitely on the same page here. “Oh, wow, that’s — that’s great. Thank god, I thought _I_ was the one who had to make a run here.” She smiles and offers her hand. “I hereby promise you a happily ever after — a life where you don’t get tied down with me.”

Zoro grins and takes it. “Same here.”

“Oh, is that Sandai Kitetsu?” She suddenly exclaims, her focus is already on one of the swords hanging off the wall, and Zoro lets her rattle off.

Best soulmate ever.

 

* * *

 

Worst soulmate ever.

“What the hell, Marimo, how could you know a marine?” Sanji hisses as they’re running away from the crowd of marines chasing them, the woman from the store — who happens to be a _marine_ , apparently — leading the charge.

Zoro clicks his tongue, not exactly knowing how to put it. “It’s nothing. I came across her earlier,” he shrugs. “She’s just my soulmate.”

Sanji narrows his eyes. “‘Just’?”

He glares back, mind immediately recalling how the stupid cook reacts around girls. “You’re one of those romantics, aren’t you,” he accuses.

That earns him a scowl from Sanji. “What’s with that tone? There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic,” he says, but before Zoro can make fun of him, Sanji suddenly adds, “although I guess I can’t afford to be one.”

Zoro almost trips over his own feet, and that would’ve been dangerous, considering the marines seem to get closer and closer to them. He picks up pace, and the only response he can muster is a confused, “Huh?”

“Dangerous pirate life, vicious marines, deadly storms, any of that sounds familiar to you?” It’s Sanji’s turn to shrug. “I wouldn’t put my soulmate through that. They’re better off living a normal life, and I still need to find the All Blue.”

Zoro blinks. He certainly didn’t expect such a response from the self-proclaimed love cook, who seemingly bends over backwards to please any woman they come across. Sanji is frustrating like that — every time Zoro thinks he has the cook figured out, Sanji always reveals another side of him that Zoro never expected.

“Surprisingly rational,” he acknowledges.

“‘Surprising’?” Sanji spits out. “I’m _always_ rational, fuck you.”

Sanji swings his leg just as he raises Wadou to block it; Nami has to remind them that a group of marines are _literally chasing us right now, what’s wrong with you two_ , _hurry up and get on board!_

They both give each other a _we’re not done here_ look before following Nami.

 

* * *

 

Surprising.

That’s certainly a good word to describe Sanji.

After a few months, Zoro thinks he gets everyone pinned down pretty well — their personalities, their likes and dislikes, how he stands with them. Luffy’s a little harder to understand, sure, but he suspects that’s always the case when it comes to Luffy, and he doesn’t take it personally. Luffy likes adventure, and the seas, and his friends, and that’s enough for Zoro.

But Sanji… Sanji is another thing entirely.

At first Zoro thought he was just a weak, pampered boy. That image had been thrown out of the window almost instantly when they fought together against Arlong, Sanji’s kicks having saved their lives a couple of times (not that Zoro would ever admit that out loud, _hell_ no). And then he thought Sanji was an airhead — which he turned out not to be, especially after the shit he pulled to trick Crocodile — and _then_ Zoro thought he was a stuck-up. Which he turned out not to be, either, because Sanji was unexpectedly a good drinking companion and an even better sparring partner, who respects Zoro and sees him as an equal.

Zoro never knows how he stands with Sanji — they’re _nakama_ , sure, and he knows he’d take a bullet for Sanji  any day — but are they friends? They seem to trade insults more often that a friend would. Chopper always treats them both like big brothers, but Zoro doesn’t think he holds such a… _familial_ affection for Sanji; not the way he sees Chopper and Usopp and Luffy, like little brothers he wants to protect, to fight with, to be stronger for.

Sometimes he watches Sanji in the battlefield; the way Sanji grins fearlessly in the face of danger, an expression Zoro knows is mirrored on his own face. Sanji does a spin with his kick, graceful and deadly at the same time, and Zoro can’t take his eyes off of him.

He has learned to stop worrying about the side of the battlefield Sanji is in, he realizes — knows instinctively, deep in his bones, that he can trust the Cook. That Sanji would give his all, that he would meet Zoro’s expectation and then some.

That Sanji wouldn’t let a man lay a single scar on Zoro’s back.

Zoro doesn’t know anything about romances; doesn’t care much about love, doesn’t pay attention to the numbers on his wrist. But in the middle of swung blades of fallen bodies, feeling a gun aiming at his back and feeling the complete, absolute _trust_ that Sanji would take care of the sniper — Zoro thinks this is probably the closest thing to having a real soulmate.

 

* * *

 

The party is dwindling down around them. The campfire is still burning, column of smoke spirals up to the sky over Skypiea, but dying; the girls have retreated into their tent, and the boys have started to doze off, sprawling unceremoniously around the campground, and Sanji is the only one left awake aside from Zoro. Zoro watches him collect the cooking utensils that have been thrown around during the campfire, and his mind can’t help to wander.

These quiet moments he shares with the Cook, Zoro notices, have become more and more common. After dinner, when the crew has retreated for bed and it’s just the two of them, cleaning the dishes. In the early dawn of the day, as Zoro trains at the deck of Merry and Sanji takes his morning cigarette before preparing breakfast. Stolen glances, hands brushing, shoulders almost touching.

And now, with the air light between them and the campfire sizzling with its last sparks, Sanji’s hand placed all-too-near Zoro’s hand, the tips of their fingers not-quite-touching.

Zoro doesn’t want to ruin whatever moment they’re in — doesn’t _know_ if they’re even in any kind of _moment_ — but what he knows is that he wants to press his lips against Sanji’s, and he’s never been good with stopping himself from getting what he wants.

So he slides his hand towards Sanji’s and takes it in a hold — firm, but gentle. Sanji can pull it away if he wants to. He doesn’t.

“I’m not good with this kind of stuff,” he begins, and tries not to sound like he’s choking on his own heart, “so I don’t know if I’m just imagining things here or are we — shit, fuck it,” he sputters, turns to face Sanji head on and leans in. “I want to kiss you now,” he tells him. And then, “can I?”

He watches the blush visibly creeping up Sanji’s features; up along his neck and across the bridge of his nose, dusting his cheeks red. It looks as if the Cook’s being lit up from inside, and Zoro thinks he likes this look on Sanji.

Sanji chuckles nervously. “You stupid mosshead, since when —” he jokes, “since when did you even ask my permission to do things?”

“This is different and you know it,” Zoro growls back, a little insulted by what Sanji is implying. “I would never do such a thing — without your consent —”

He’s prepared to go on a whole rant about it, but his mouth is suddenly very occupied, considering Sanji’s lips are on his now. It’s something new, entirely different, something Zoro thought he would never get to experience with Sanji — but it also feels familiar, like they’ve been doing this for a long time, like coming _home_.

It ends as suddenly as it begins, and Zoro can’t stop the whine of protest that comes out of his mouth. He wants to taste more of Sanji, damn it. To get to know him more.

Sanji must’ve heard it, because he laughs. “Relax,” he says, thumb rubbing at the side of Zoro’s hand. “I was joking. I really appreciate it, though, that was kind of…” he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed. “Sweet. Of you to ask.”

Zoro uses his free hand to brush his fingers against the Cook’s cheek, almost trembling in its uncertainty. Sanji looks beautiful like this, flushed and happy, and Zoro doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch, if it’s even _real_.

He catches a glimpse of Sanj’s numbers, still ticking down to an unseen future, and something lodges in his throat. “Is this really okay?” He asks, because he has to know. “What about your…?”

He trails off, but Sanji immediately knows what he’s talking about. The Cook’s eyes flicker towards Zoro’s own numbers — a series of zeros, a constant reminder of a past meeting. “What about yours?”

Zoro huffs. “I asked first.”

“What are you, five?” Sanji fires back, but there’s no bite in his voice. He sighs, and leans into Zoro’s touch. “Remember when we had this conversation about soulmates before? It was in that city before the Reverse Mountain — what was it — Loguetown?”

“Loguetown,” Zoro agrees, remembers all too well of the place where his numbers hit zero and the rush of panic that followed.

“I meant what I said before — I love our _nakama_ , love the sea, love and hate how Luffy keeps making terrible decisions that get everyone in danger,” he chuckles fondly at that. “I don’t regret my choices. And I want to find the All Blue,” there’s a glint in his eyes as he says it, and Zoro loves that, how Sanji throws his headfirst into the chase for his dream. But the thrill in those eyes quickly disappears, melancholy taking over as Sanji says, “but I still don’t think it’s fair for my soulmate, whoever they are, to be forced into this life. I don’t expect them to understand.”

Zoro can feel Sanji’s hand starts to tremble, and he takes a hold of it with his free hand, brushes a thumb over Sanji’s wrist in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. He can hear Sanji’s breath hitch, before the Cook leans forward, resting his head on Zoro’s shoulder.

“But you —” Sanji continues, “you _understand_. Not just the pirate thing, but this whole —” he gestures helplessly at his surroundings, “protecting the crew. Everyone can hold their own in a fight, of course, and it’s not like I don’t trust them, but — you know.”

And Zoro _does_ know. Nami and Usopp and Chopper don’t exactly fight, not unless they have to, and he’s still unsure about Robin. Luffy is definitely a powerhouse, but he’s a wild card, and it’s up to Sanji and him to keep everyone in line and _safe_ and Zoro wouldn’t trade this for the world, wouldn’t trust anyone else to have his back.

“When my counter ticks to zero, I — _we_ ,” Sanji quickly amends, “will figure it out.” He looks up, and if Zoro didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he was seeing a _pout_ on Sanji’s face right now. “Now, can I get a kiss?”

Zoro huffs, and _finally_ , finally leans in. It’s not a word he uses often, but maybe the Cook _can_ be cute after all.

 

* * *

 

 

“You really miss him, huh?” Perona asks over her soup.

Zoro raises his eyebrow. By now he’s used to her incessant chatter and random topics of conversations, but this one’s especially out of the blue. “Who?”

“That creep from your crew,” she says, making a swirling motion with her hand. “The one with the funny eyebrow. Sanji, right?”

Zoro hates the way his heart stutter in his chest at the mere mention of the Cook’s name, and hates the way his knee-jerk reaction is to ask, “How did you know?”

It takes him a moment to realize that he’s basically admitting that he misses the Cook — to _Perona_ , no less, out of all people — but Perona doesn’t seem like she’s going to buy whatever excuse he can come up with anyway, so he doesn’t make one. “He’s the Cook, isn’t he? In Straw Hat’s crew?” She gestures at his bowl of soup. “You always have this… sour look on your face every time we eat. Almost like, I don’t know, _longing_? Mihawk’s shit at cooking, but he’s not _that_ bad.”

Zoro clears his throat; he can’t believe he’s been so _obvious_. “Yeah, the Shit Cook’s food is...good,” he finishes lamely. The word feels unfamiliar rolling off his tongue; he makes a point never to admit that out loud, just to piss Sanji off, but now it seems so...foolish, to keep up the lie when the Cook isn’t around. He misses Sanji with a solid ache, and he’d say it a thousand times if it meant he could see the Cook now.

Something must’ve shown in his face, because Perona pushes her bowl away and rests her chin in her hands. “Must be nice, huh, this whole soulmate thing.”

And _that_ weird leap of conversation topic finally got Zoro to stop eating. “What?”

“I’ve seen your timer, I know it has hit zero,” Perona explains. “That cook is your soulmate, right?”

“Ah,” Zoro shakes his head. “No. My soulmate was someone else. I _am_ with the Cook, though,” he adds, because it feels important, and he likes hearing it out loud. It makes it feel _real_ , especially after not seeing the Cook for the past one-and-a-half year.

Perona looks at him like she expects him to laugh it off as a joke. When he doesn’t, she huffs, “what, _really_? Could’ve fooled me.”

Zoro frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t they say you’re supposed to have this gross lovey-dovey thing with your soulmate?”

Zoro _definitely_ wouldn’t call what he has with Sanji — he cringes inwardly at the term — _lovey-dovey_ , but it _is_ something different, something _special_ , and it irks him that Perona would insinuate that it is anything less than that just because they don’t have the same weird numbers on their skin. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

“Is that a thing you can even do?” Perona says, almost in wonder. “Isn’t this soulmate thing — I don’t know — your other half, chosen by the gods?”

“I don’t believe in gods,” Zoro declares, surely, steadily. “And I sure as hell don’t believe in whatever they think is good for me. I don’t have another half — I am whole without another person. I am with the Cook because I want to be.”

“Weirdos,” Perona jeers, but there’s a small smile on her face. Zoro has seen her counter — a series of zeroes, just like Zoro’s. Perona has met her soulmate, and whatever happened with them, it must’ve fallen through, because unless Mihawk is her soulmate (okay, _gross_ , he can’t believe he even considered that) she’s clearly alone now.

Zoro doesn’t like talking about his private relationship with other people, but he has reluctantly become fond of Perona in the months he’s stayed at Mihawk’s castle. So if hearing about Zoro’s relationship with the Cook makes her happy — gives her hope that she can lead a perfectly good life without her soulmate — then Zoro’s embarrassment is a small price to pay.

(And if Zoro needs an excuse to talk about the Cook with someone else — well, he’s not about to admit that out loud just yet).

“Hey,” he says instead, “you wanna hear how the Cook and I met?”

“Sounds boring,” Perona says, but listens anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

When they meet again, it is as if the two years of separation didn’t matter.

They fall into the same old arguments naturally and Zoro thinks his heart is going to burst from his chest, because Sanji is _right here_ , alive and well and, fuck, Zoro misses him, misses his stupid eyebrow and his stupid face and his stupid, annoying nagging voice. So he kisses him.

Sanji protests at first with a loud, _hmpf_ , but Zoro runs a hand up his side and the protest turns into a hum as Sanji returns the kiss. He doesn’t care that they’re in the middle of the market, if people are staring — all that matters to him is the way he can feel the curve of Sanji’s smile against his lips, and Sanji tastes like smoke and spice and morning dew. Like _home_.

Sanji’s timer ticks on.

 

* * *

 

The woman wouldn’t stop hitting him on the back, and Zoro is _this_ close to dropping her. It doesn’t hurt the least bit, but it sure as hell is annoying.

“Shut up!” He yells, hoping it’d make her stop squirming. “I’m trying to look for the Cook!”

“Drop me, pirate!”

“I would if you weren’t so _slow_!” He yells back at Tashigi, who resorts to hitting him on the back. Again. “Shut up, the Cook wouldn’t live it down if I don’t get out in time.”

“Cook this, cook that,” Tashigi grumbles, “what, the rumors are true and you two are fucking?”

Zoro doesn’t stop in his tracks because they’re _literally running away from poisonous gas_ , but he’s damn well near. “What rumors?!”

He can feel Tashigi awkwardly shrug from her position over his shoulder. “It’s more like _information_ gathered, really — don’t think we just sit around gossiping about pirates! It’s important for us to keep track of affiliations or lack thereof,” she hits him again, and damn it, this time it wasn’t even his fault. “We just heard that the swordsman and the cook of the Strawhat Pirates might be in a relationship.”

Zoro couldn’t help the heat that rises up his cheeks. Have they really been that obvious?

“Whoever’s saying that,” he says, keeping a flat tone thar betrays no emotion, “they’re right.”

He can feel Tashigi’s gaze bore into the back of his head. “Interesting. Our intelligence also said that the relationship may have lasted more than a few months.”

“Definitely more,” He immediately confirms. Zoro never shies away from claiming his achievements, and staying in a relationship with one annoying prissy shit cook for _years_? Definitely one hell of an achievement.

“Huh,” is all Tashigi says to that, almost pensive.

There’s a moment of blessed silence as Tashigi seems to fall into a deep thought, but it’s soon broken as Zoro takes a left turn in an intersection and she says, “hey, pirate?”

“Hn?”

“Don’t get me wrong, as a marine, I do not approve of this relationship. Romantic relations between criminals is one of the main factors that fosters loyalty and it makes it more difficult for us to divide and conquer.”

Zoro opens his mouth to growl, _nobody asked you_ , but Tashigi’s faster.

“But as your soulmate, I’m so glad for you,” she says, relief flooding her voice. “Fuck, I’m so happy for you, you know? And it’s selfish, but I’m so happy for myself, because this really means I didn’t rob you of anything. I know we had a deal, but a lot of people change their minds over the years, and there’s always this nagging guilt at the back of my mind...not anymore, though.” He can’t see her expression right now, but he knows there’s a smile on her face that’s mirrored on his own. “I’m so happy.”

“I know,” Zoro huffs, but grins anyway. “You’re good, too, right?”

“Better than ever,” Tashigi says. “I’ll still arrest you after this, though.”

That earns her a hearty laugh from Zoro. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

Best worst soulmate ever.

 

* * *

 

To say he’s _angry_ doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Off to chase some girl, sure, he can handle that. He’s not _happy_ about it, but they both know Sanji will never be serious with his flirtations on any of them, and to rob that off of Sanji is to turn him into someone he isn’t — someone Zoro _didn’t_ fall in love with. And he loves Sanji, the dumb, heart-eyed Love Cook and all. Unfortunately.

But off to _marry_ a girl? Zoro draws a line at that, fuck you very much. He knows, distantly, that this is one of the Cook’s self-sacrificial instinct kicking in, that he isn’t leaving them — leaving _Zoro_ — because of something as trivial and fleeting as a whirlwind romance. But that doesn’t mean Zoro isn’t fucking _pissed_ about it, so pissed that he can’t see straight, his hands balled into fists so tightly that his nails would leave half-crescent marks on his palms.

And he doesn’t want to think about it, but he knows Sanji’s counter like the back of his own hand — knows exactly when it will reach zero. Zoro wants to trust Sanji, believes that this whole marriage thing isn’t something the Cook willingly walks into. But Sanji has always been a romantic at heart, even when he repeatedly told Zoro he wasn’t. What if Sanji meets his soulmate there, when Zoro isn’t with him?

What if Sanji’s _bride_ is his soulmate?

The passing thought hit him harder than he thought it would. He can physically feel the pure, unbridled _rage_ washing over him — his stomach churns, uneasy, and it bothers him that this is the extent to which the Cook can affect him. How the Cook, in turn, may not even remember Zoro’s existence at all.

Luffy strides out of the room and laughs. “Zoro! You were here? Did you hear all that just now?”

Damn it. He didn’t think Luffy would leave the room so fast. “I did,” he admits.

Luffy grins. “You’re probably worried about Sanji, aren’t you?”

“Don’t make me kick your ass,” kick? Why did he say kick? He’s not supposed to be thinking about the Cook, fuck. “I told you to leave that idiot alone.”

Luffy just laughs again, clearly not taking him seriously. Whatever. “Are you going with us to get Sanji?”

Zoro thinks of Sanji’s number hitting zero as Sanji meets someone’s eyes across the room. It is inevitable, but like _hell_ if Zoro is going to watch that happen.

“No,” he tells Luffy. The need to _break_ something itches under his skin, and he ignores it.

 

* * *

 

Sanji is standing in the middle of the galley as if nothing’s wrong. As if he didn’t almost leave the crew — almost leave _Zoro_ — just a few weeks ago. Zoro remembers the white-hot anger that gripped his heart like a vice, and thought he’d be nothing short of _livid_ when he finally saw Sanji. But now, seeing Sanji, alive and comfortable in the Sunny’s kitchen as if he hadn’t just ripped Zoro’s heart apart with his absence, Zoro is just…tired.

Zoro closes the door behind him. Sanji is stirring something inside a pot, and Zoro doesn’t miss the string of zeroes on his wrist.

He tries to raise his voice, but what comes out is a worn out, “you said ‘we’.”

Sanji’s hand stills, his entire body visibly tenses. ‘I don’t —”

“After the campfire, in one of the Sky Islands,” he cuts in, too drained to listen to one of Sanji’s excuses that neither of them believe. “You told me, when your timer hits zero, we will figure it out.” He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “We — as in you and I. We were supposed to figure it out. _Together_.”

There’s a soft _click_ as Sanji turns off the stove. “Zoro —”

“Did you think we were so weak? That we would just let you go, that you were so _dispensable_ to us?” The words spill out of his lips before he could stop himself. “Was she beautiful?”

Sanji blinks, surprised by the turn of the conversation. “Who?”

“Your soulmate. I already heard from the others.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s a baker, right? Perfect for you — I guess that’s what soulmates are. Did you fall in love with her right when your timers hit zero or after —”

Something _moves_ and Zoro tilts his head to the side — mostly out of instinct — just in time to avoid a deadly kick from Sanji, aiming right at his head. Sanj’s foot is embedded right into the wall where Zoro’s head have just been a couple of seconds ago, and when Zoro meets Sanji’s gaze, his eyes are filled with _fury._

“What kind of shitty _nonsense_ are you spouting —” Sanji growls, spitting the cigarette in his mouth to the ground. “I thought we talked about this, since when do you even care about this soulmates bullshit —”

“Since you _left_ , Shit Cook.” Zoro spits out, bitter. “Since you left all of us to meet your soulmate.”

“I didn’t know Pudding was my soulmate!” Sanji yells back. “You knew it was never about her, they threatened my family back in East Blue —”

Zoro pulls out his Wadou and hits Sanji’s leg with the hilt of the sword, knocking the wind out of him as he falls. Sanji quickly puts his hand on the ground and uses the momentum to swing a round-kick Zoro can barely block, the force of the kick hard enough to push him out of the galley door.

Zoro gets up on his feet as Sanji jumps into another kick, and soon they fall into a familiar rhythm, blades and shoes swung and clash against one another. Zoro doesn’t know how everything went downhill so fast — just a few weeks ago he had Sanji in his arms. He could still feel the way Sanji’s hair would tangle in between his fingers, the way he’d let Zoro leave marks on his skin, bruises so dark and harsh they wouldn’t go away for weeks. Zoro thinks the bruises are still there, barely visible under Sanji’s white dress shirt, and yet they couldn’t be further apart now, their relationship a mere shadow of what it was.

That thought is the only thing occupying his mind as he swings his blade, and Zoro feels his heart drop when the sharp edge of Wadou touches skin and slices across Sanji’s arm.

Zoro drops his sword.

“Why didn’t you —” he scrambles towards the Cook, immediately untangles his bandana to use it as a makeshift bandage, “fuck, Cook, I didn’t mean to —”

“Listen to me, mosshead —”

“You could’ve avoided it — your _hands_ —”

“Listen to me — my hands are fine, it’s okay, _listen_ —” Sanji grabs Zoro with his other hand and guides it towards the wound. He covers his hand over Zoro’s, and lets him wrap his fingers around it, hissing under his breath. “It’s just my arm, okay? It’s _just my timer_.” He looks up. “It’s okay.”

They’re not talking about the wound anymore, Zoro knows. The way Sanji’s pulse beats underneath Zoro’s fingers, the way Sanji looks him in the eye and says, _it’s just my timer_.

Like it doesn’t matter.

“If I was back in Zou right now, facing Bege and getting Big Mom’s invitation all over again...I wouldn’t have done any different. _But_ ,” he quickly adds when Zoro growls at that, kicking him in the calf for emphasis, “wait until I finish talking, you oaf — but I should’ve been more honest with all of you about my situation.”

Sanji looks like he wants to look away, but his gaze doesn’t stray away from Zoro’s, facing him head on. “That note was shitty, and all of you deserve better.” He says, and, “ _you_ deserve better.”

And just like that, the anger and frustration that  have been plaguing Zoro for the past weeks are — gone. Like a boulder that’s been washed out of the river, worn away to sand. He can’t even feel them even if he tries to. And he doesn’t.

Instead he brushes his fingers against the wound along Sanji’s arm — along Sanji’s soulmate timer. Sanji winces, but it’s mostly instinctive — the wound has already closed up, the slice from Zoro’s blade was barely skin-deep; it probably wouldn’t even leave a scar tomorrow.

But Zoro understands what it means anyway. For Sanji, to trust Zoro so wholeheartedly, letting his precious hands be so near Zoro’s swords and knowing Zoro wouldn’t hurt them. Not where it matters.

There are no such thing as soulmates. But there _is_ someone Zoro could see spending the rest of his lives with. A better half, a mirror image — a partner.

“Sanji,” he says, breaking the silence, and Sanji’s head snaps up in shock at the use of his name. Zoro really needs to say it more often. “Take my name.”

Sanji blinks. “Huh?”

“You hated that name, right? Vinsmoke — whatever,” he spits out, hating the way the name tastes on his tongue. “Take mine instead.”

It takes a moment for Sanji to process what he’s saying, before he begins to chuckle nervously. “Did you just — did you just _propose_ to me?”

There’s a blush visibly crawling up Sanji’s face, and Zoro can’t help grinning at the sight. He raises Sanji’s arm in his grip, “well, since these numbers can’t do _shit_ ,” Sanji scoffs at that, and Zoro continues, “anything I can do to have you for the rest of my life.”

Sanji flushes red at that, and Zoro sees it as a chance to lean in and press a kiss against his lips. It’s weird, how such a simple act could pull the strings inside his heart, but it does, and Zoro takes in everything, the way Sanji smiles against his lips and slides his hands up Zoro’s sides, _feeling_ him.

He pulls away and looks at Sanji’s kiss-reddened lips. They’re tilted up in a smile, and Zoro smiles back.

“Okay,” Sanji huffs, amused. “I’ll take your stupid name.”

The words tug on something inside Zoro’s chest, and he pulls Sanji into another kiss.

Their timer has stopped ticking, and it means nothing at all.


End file.
